


Circulatory

by audiopilot



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Amputation, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Dirty Talk, Frottage, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Predator/Prey, Sexual Violence, Stalking, Torture, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-19 07:43:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22840861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audiopilot/pseuds/audiopilot
Summary: After a bad trial in Hawkins National Laboratory leaves him the last one alive, Ace finds himself cornered by Ghost Face. Struggling to keep his composure and figure out how to escape, he endures Ghost Face's sadistic attempts to break him.
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Ace Visconti
Comments: 17
Kudos: 75





	Circulatory

The trial was a disaster from the start. Ace had been taken by surprise, Ghost Face snatching him off a generator, and things quickly rolled downhill from there. Only one generator had been completed and half the team was already dead. Now it was down to Ace and David Tapp, the latter slowly bleeding out in one of the middle rooms of the laboratory while Ace searched for chests. It was an obvious trap, and Ace stayed far away from where David crawled in circles. Eventually Ghost Face would grow bored and kill David or leave him. All Ace had to do was time it right to sneak past and patch David up and get him back on his feet. The only sliver of a chance at them both escaping was if he could find a key first.

A chill nipped down Ace's spine and his hands stilled where he'd been in the middle of digging through a chest. The cold, sweat-inducing sensation signaled he was being watched. Ace looked around the two barrels next to him, attempting to spot where it was coming from; there were only a few spots along the stretch of hallway where Ghost Face could surprise him. 

He hadn't counted on being searched out this quickly.

Ace let the lid slam shut as he spotted that drooping mask peeking low around a corner. Ghost Face's stare peeled away all defense, leaving him completely exposed. The only option was to run.

Unfortunately, it was easy to become lost within the labyrinth of rooms. Even with his glasses off and slipped into his shirt pocket, it was hard to see in the dark hallways. The occasional eruption of growths worming their way across the walls made it worse, pumping out little clouds of white flecks. As he ran through a haze of them, he could hear Ghost Face close behind in the whip of ragged fabric against air and the slap of his boots overtaking Ace's own hurried steps. 

Hardly aware of where he was going, Ace grabbed onto the base of a growth-covered hook and swung himself sharply through a wide doorway. It was the only thing that saved him. From the corner of his eye, he caught Ghost Face's lunge as he turned. The rats in the hook squealed as the knife hit the hook instead.

Inside was a storage room. Should he use the protection of the racks to keep away from him or go for the doorway on the opposite side? The second of hesitation was all that Ghost Face needed to catch up.

A hand caught Ace's shirt, hauling him backwards, and Ace contorted sideways towards the nearest pallet. He slammed it down with a prayer even as he felt something strike his lower back. Ghost Face's drawn out exhale as he was stunned was reassuring. He was safe, but only for the moment.

Ace winced at the sting of a cut, blindly feeling where his shirt had torn. It didn't seem to be bleeding too badly yet. Nothing he could do about it now, with Ghost Face standing in front of him and only a breakable barrier between them. He smirked a little, waiting for the killer's next move. There was something satisfying about making them miss a hit. Especially this one.

Trial after trial, Ace had been stalked and hunted through forests and buildings by Ghost Face. No matter what Ace did, the slippery guy somehow always found him. He couldn't even say what started it; it wasn't like Ace intentionally antagonized killers like Nea or David King.

Instead of breaking the wooden pallet, Ghost Face ducked to the side, behind the racks that split the room in half. Ace paced in the opposite direction; eyes trained at the gaps between the large cases filling the lower shelves for a glimpse of black leather. There was another pallet on the other side of the racks that he could use, but there were also empty shelves above that formed a walkway they could both use to bypass the circuit the racks created. They circled each other for several minutes, Ace backtracking whenever Ghost Face made a feint in one direction or the other. Eventually, he was forced to drop the other pallet when Ghost Face moved so fast it was all Ace could do to avoid a hit. It was quiet. There was only the echo of their steps and Ace's own panting. Since coming here, his body felt thirty years younger, but even that stamina was waning at the long chase.

David was slipping away, about to clock out from blood loss, but there was no way Ace could help him now. He could only think about himself.

Still, Ghost Face didn't break either pallet, herding him around the racks. Ace could feel the sweat gathering on his skin, his side starting to ache from the constant, tense back and forth. He didn't know how much longer he'd last, but he didn't want to leave the safety of the pallets. Outside the room, the rest of them were even easier to be caught out at.

He was beginning to think Ghost Face was drawing it out on purpose.

David's death left a ringing sound in his ears as, for the third time, Ace slid over one of the pallets before Ghost Face could catch him. The move stretched the fiery slice on his back and left a hot weep of blood along his spine. With the hatch now an option, the stakes were at their highest, though Ace had to wait for the right moment. _Break the damn pallet already_ , Ace wanted to shout. It would slow Ghost Face down and give Ace precious time to flee.

It came to an end when Ghost Face chose to come around the smaller rack too quickly for Ace to vault the pallet again. His knife bounced off wood as Ace went for the walkway instead. He made it halfway up the metal staircase, only to yelp at a hard hit to the back of his head. Ace fell across the shelf, the glasses in his pocket cracking under him and his feet pushing at air where they hung over the stairs, only to grunt as Ghost Face's weight slammed on top of him.

He'd drawn a shit hand, bet everything and lost.

Most of Ace was already resigned to what would happen next. His head pounded with pain and Ghost Face was sitting on his cut. Pressing his face against the cold metal, he waited for the knife stabbing him in the back. Three times and then he'd be dragged up for the flash of Ghost Face's camera. The guy must have had hundreds of pictures of him by now, always the same.

Except it was hands on him instead, digging into his hip and shoulder to flip him over onto his back. The crushed pieces of his sunglasses fell free, clattering onto the platform and falling over the edge. Ace blinked as Ghost Face leaned over to block out the sterile lights overhead, his weight heavy across Ace's legs. His hand pushed flat across the center of Ace's chest and Ace raised his own empty hands up, showing he wouldn't fight back. Struggling wouldn't do a thing when he was pinned. All of the killers could overpower him without much effort. Not that Ace had ever been much of a fighter, but he'd never felt so weak in his old life.

He doubted it was mercy Ghost Face had in mind, staring down at him, and Ace hid his confusion behind a smile.

Going for something flippant, he guessed, "Finally going for a different pose?"

Ghost Face made a low sound, raising the knife. Its wicked curve was stained by blood. Ace breathed out. He knew it was going to hurt and he held still when it came lower. The sharp tip pressed to his skin where the top buttons of his shirt were undone. He waited for it to drive down, pierce between his collar and deep into his throat. 

It was drawn up along his neck so lightly that it only made a scratch. Ghost Face rested it just below his chin, forcing Ace's head to tilt backwards.

"Something like that," Ghost Face replied, voice muffled but clear enough behind the mask. It wasn't the first time Ace had heard him speak, but it was still surprising. A reminder that, despite any otherworldly power, the thing on top of him was simply a man.

Ace's heart was going too fast. It thumped in his head, across the cut on his back and in the itching line up his throat. Like this, he could smell Ghost Face's sweat-soaked leather and worse underneath the reek of something acrid and chemical, the mix of it turning Ace's stomach.

"Am I boring you?" Ghost Face asked, sounding curious. The knife moved a little and Ace both heard and felt the scratch of some of his beard being shaved away.

Ace didn't respond immediately, the moment stretching as he acted like he wasn't bothered by the danger.

He'd known plenty of guys like this before. They got off on reactions, on the stink of fear and terror. All Ace could do was give them what they didn't expect. Friendliness to disarm, to try and distract from the lies he spun out as quickly as his tongue could move. Sometimes he made himself go soft and teasing, like he was picking up a beautiful woman and not a burly debt collector. It was a good way to catch people off their guard. When they recoiled in disgust, confusion, or anger, then Ace would slip away like planned. Rarely, there was an actual flicker of interest, his good looks winning them over. However, a dead man couldn't pay back his debts so he couldn't say he'd ever tried it with someone who wanted to kill him.

Who already _had_ killed him.

"Well," Ace said, light and easy, "You have to admit this whole affair is predictable."

He could feel Ghost Face go tense over him, legs pushing Ace's uncomfortably together as they drew inwards. The reaction meant something, but Ace didn't know what. The knife left his chin as Ghost Face got right in his face.

"I have something different planned," he said. The smell of his breath traveled through the fabric of its stretched mouth. "Something only for you."

Ace strained to keep smiling despite the pinch of nervousness at the words. They didn't sound good, not at all.

"Does this plan involve a different position?" Ace asked. "I'm not as young as I used to be, and this is hell on my back."

Ghost Face's breathing went a little heavier, quick exhales sour as they hit Ace's face. 

"No," he said. "I want you right where I have you."

There went Ace's hope to attempt an escape when Ghost Face moved off of him. If he could get him to make a mistake...

"Took you long enough."

Abruptly, he was backhanded hard, head thrown to the side and pain needle-sharp across his mouth.

"Shut the fuck up," Ghost Face snapped. Licking at his stinging lip, Ace swallowed around the taste of blood at the furious eruption, hands automatically pressing against Ghost Face's chest. He quickly pulled them back, disturbed at the solid feel of it under his palms. They were already touching more than Ace liked.

"Hey, no need for that. We're getting to know each other better, right?"

"I already know you," Ghost Face said. He was back to sounding gentle. "You are the predictable one. It's not hard to find you, you can't stay away from those boxes. No matter what it gives you, nothing will save you. Not from _me_."

Ghost Face's taunting missed its mark. Ace wasn't a sore loser. He never started a trial expecting to reach an exit gate. He took what he could from the little gambles of what he'd find in chests, but he didn't depend on them. Ace opened his mouth to tell him so, but Ghost Face wasn't done.

"When you're alone, you don't act nearly as cocky. No more smiles when you play with that ring on your finger, huh? Thinking about someone you'll never see again?"

"How do you know that?" Ace let slip in surprise. He had never done that during a trial. It was something he did back at the campfire, away from the other survivors when the bleakness of the trials became too much. Impossible for Ghost Face to have seen him do it— unless he could haunt the woods around where the survivors were forced to wait for the next trial. The thought was chilling.

"' _What can I say? I'm just a very lucky guy._ '"

Ace recognized the words, they were his own parroted back at him; he'd teased one of the newer survivors, Steve, about his luck rubbing off on him a few trials ago with that exact wording. It was a little daunting that Ghost Face could recall what he'd said word-for-word.

His head was shoved to the side, the leather gloves rasping over his beard as fingers clenched around his jaw. The mask pushed hard against the upturned part of Ace's face until Ghost Face was whispering directly in his ear, "You know, I used to have to tape their mouths shut. Didn't want the screams attracting the wrong sort of attention. But I don't have to worry about that anymore... Keep talking, nothing you say is going to make a difference."

Ace was frozen. He could feel Ghost Face's body trembling where they were pressed together. Decades of honing on the slightest tells across a poker table told Ace it wasn't with any sort of anxiety. From his tone, it was the excited hunger of an addict about to get their next hit.

"It is too bad that other idiot didn't last. He could have heard the way you sound when I get inside of you." 

Ace ground his teeth as Ghost Face pushed his face harder against the platform. He had a quick burst of hope when Ghost Face leaned away, but it fled the moment he felt the knife come back. It followed the length of his shirt's placket, flicking each button off as it went down. They made little clinks against the metal as they fell to the side. It was too short of a countdown before the knife was pressed to the flat of his stomach above his belt buckle. He lightly tapped it below Ace's navel twice, like Ghost Face was considering his next move. Against his leg, something blunt and just as hard nudged him.

He hadn't even realized he was holding his breath. His stuttered inhale was loud between them.

This was edging past familiar territory and into something else. Something ran dark and hot through Ace's heart. He wasn't exactly a stranger to the threat pressed against him, though he didn't like it in combination with the knife. One or the other he could take, but both at the same time? Ace shuddered.

Ghost Face noticed his reaction. A nasty little laugh came from beneath the mask as he moved the knife away from Ace's stomach and started to cut away at the extra lengths of fabric on his own shoulders. Ace didn't have to guess what he'd do with them. It made Ghost Face shift on his knees to reach them, caused his weight to lift away.

It was what Ace was waiting for; he lunged upwards, jabbing the palm of his hand at Ghost Face's crotch. The move left the other man groaning as he curled forwards. Ace was already dragging himself out from under him, going for the edge of the platform. He could drop down, make for the hatch, and avoid whatever gruesome plans Ghost Face had for him.

A punch in his side stopped him before he got very far, the impact hard enough to knock him flat and wheezing.

"Cunt," Ghost Face hissed, wrenching him backwards. Ace realized it hadn't been a punch at all when he saw the knife deep in his side. There was no pain until Ghost Face cruelly twisted it with a wet squelch, and then it was all he could feel.

Choking on nothing, Ace's fingers slid over the shelving as he kept trying to escape. Ghost Face left the knife in, using both of his hands to gather Ace's arms and tie them together with the strands he'd cut away from his own coat. He yanked on the knots hard, panting under the mask. Ace twisted his arms under where the fabric wound around them from wrist to elbow, but they were locked tight.

"That was your only fucking chance," Ghost Face spit out. "Looks like your luck has run out."

He grabbed him by the hair and gave Ace a hard shake like an unruly dog. Ace cried out as it jostled the knife stuck in his side. Every part of him was screaming to get it out. He knew it would be worse once Ghost Face removed it, but the pain was overtaking any logic. His chin shook, made his lower lip tremble as he attempted to somehow breathe without making it worse. Ghost Face was tying his ankles together too, slick gloves on Ace's bare skin where his trousers didn't to cover them.

"Now, let's see how much you can really take."

"List-listen," Ace tried, only to scream when Ghost Face ripped the knife out. 

Ace floundered, arms jerking with the need to cover the wound as he felt the draining sensation of blood leaving his body. He barely noticed Ghost Face was wiping the blade clean with Ace's shirt. Ghost Face slid it onto the sheath on his belt before he forced Ace to sit up. With harsh movements, he tugged Ace's shirt back over his shoulders until the sleeves were tangled around his biceps. Ace wanted to resist, but his side hurt too much for him to do much beyond a few feeble twitches, bound hands bumping against Ghost Face's stomach.

Then he was shoved onto his back again and Ace winced at the shot of pain across his side. Ghost Face fit himself between the diamond of his tied legs. Ace stared up at the ceiling, those little spores floating overhead. He was burning his head for a way out of this, but he couldn't think of a solution. It was going to happen no matter what he did. The only consolation was that death wasn't permanent anymore; Ace had lost his fear of it pretty quick after repeated experiences. The time it took to bleed out was always the same. Knowing the end would come made it a little easier to tolerate a few minutes of whatever this asshole had in mind.

"Can't blame a guy for trying, you know?" Ace weakly joked.

The response was a hand between his legs, seizing his dick over his trousers and squeezing hard enough that Ace's cry was high-pitched this time, tears filling his eyes. He legs closed around Ghost Face's waist as he tried to protect himself. With his ankles stuck together, it was impossible to get Ghost Face out from between them. It didn't stop him from shoving his forearms against Ghost Face. It didn't do a thing besides get his hands scratched by the straps across Ghost Face's upper body.

When Ghost Face finally let him go, he hadn't even recovered before a finger was nudging his side. It roughly pushed past torn skin, and Ace kicked his heels against the metal underneath him, panting out a curse and knocking his head back against the platform, anything to distract from how it was forcing him apart. 

"That's it," Ghost Face sighed. "Open up for me."

Ace grimaced at the words. Even more disgusting was Ghost Face grinding against him as he moved his finger in and out of the stab wound. His hips pushed forwards, getting up between Ace's thighs to press his erection over him. Either he'd recovered fast or Ace's hit hadn't been enough to spoil his arousal.

"You're a real sweet-talker," Ace muttered. He tried angling his own hips away from Ghost Face, but there was nowhere to go. Caught underneath him again, wiggling like a fish on a hook.

"Don't worry. I'm just getting started."

"Who's worried?" 

Ghost Face laughed and shoved in as deep as he could, the leather over his knuckles cool when they pressed against Ace's burning skin. God, it fucking hurt. Ace could feel his insides stretching in a way they weren't meant to, ripping under the jabbing exploration of Ghost Face's finger. All he could hear was his own soft gasps every time Ghost Face crooked it into a new direction and the little, wet noises coming from his side. They sounded too much like something else. Something he didn't want to consider with a cock pressed against his own.

When he finally pulled it out, Ace's relief was short-lived.

He held Ace's tied wrists, manipulated Ace's hands until he forced his left ring finger to extend outwards. Then the knife was back, blade against the base of his finger. Ghost Face paused until Ace looked up at him, blinking around the wet feel of his eyes, and then he started to cut at the skin. He kept at it as Ace groaned and fought to free his hand, slicing in short strokes that slowly whittled away flesh and tendon. Blood covered both of their hands, soaked into Ghost Face's gloves. Only when the glimpse of white bone shone through all the redness did Ghost Face put his hand down. It was pressed flat against the platform, allowing Ghost Face to shove the blade down with a grunt. The knife went through, meeting metal as Ace's finger detached under the pressure.

Ace gaped at the sight of it, deliriously remembering the time some gangster had threatened to cut off his hands. Ace had laughed at the time, distracted the man with liquor and cigarettes and the promise of a pretty cousin who didn't exist. That easy confidence now seemed completely out of his reach. 

"It doesn't take much, does it?" Ghost Face mocked him.

"You fucking mother fucker," Ace gasped out, eyes squeezing shut. 

"Look," Ghost Face's command was an excited rasp as he picked up Ace's finger and showed it to him. He stroked Ace's cheek with the tip of it. It was warm, the shredded end dripping blood onto Ace's bare chest. His mind shied away from it, not quite ready to process that it wasn't attached to the rest of his hand.

As Ace watched him twist the ring free, casting his finger aside to put the ring in one of his pockets, Ace's shock crumbled under sudden fury. Even when he had nothing else, he hadn't added his ring to the pot. Not only was Ghost Face a devil, but a thief as well. 

Ghost Face pulled out his camera and Ace wondered if that meant it was going to be over. Ace looked away. The thing made a winding click as Ghost Face took a shot of him before he started rubbing himself against Ace with real intent.

With his arms tied he couldn't do much to stop the flow of blood from the stump. He tried to hold his arms still despite Ghost Face's movement. His skin crawled at the agony of his ruined hand and side, at the feel of Ghost's Face dick alongside his own through their clothes. It took him a long moment to form words, but he turned his head to look into his mask's eyes as he spoke.

"Not very original." He grinned through the pain as he added, "Copying the clown's style."

"Is that so?"

The stab wasn't as much of a surprise this time. Ace couldn't even make a sound at the knife embedded in the middle of his chest, just below his breastbone. Too lightheaded to do more than struggle to breathe while Ghost Face stopped to take another photograph. It didn't hurt as much as it should. A cold numbness was spreading from his bound hands and feet. The only warmth was the bank of burning rage in Ace, fed by Ghost Face's every action.

"Better?" Ghost Face tenderly asked. He ground his hips down over and over, the angle pressing too much on Ace's dick and balls. But there was nothing Ace could do but lay there and silently urge his blood to leave him faster. He couldn't help but notice how Ghost Face was shaking. Little noises of pleasure came out from under the mask. The camera was dropped so Ghost Face could grip at Ace's chest above the knife, damp gloves slipping over hair and blood as his fingers dug hard into Ace's muscles. He moved faster between Ace's legs. The uncomfortable friction was entirely frantic now. Ace wanted to close his eyes, but for some reason he couldn't stop staring up at the mask. Couldn't stop wondering if Ghost Face's real face was twisted up in the pleasure-pain of trying to come or if he was staring back.

Despite how cold Ace was, heat worked its way up over his face, so thick it felt like an extra layer of skin.

With a deep sigh that sounded too much like when he was stunned, Ghost Face's thrusts slowed, went into that sluggish strain of orgasm. At the same time, he ripped the knife out with enthusiasm, blood splashing off of it to cover them both and turn the air metallic. It hurt enough to shock Ace out of the floating sensation that had overcome his body. He refused to look down. He didn't want to see what the newest wound looked like. He felt it plenty, like he'd been divided in two.

Ghost Face's camera was clicking away again. Taking more photos. For the last one, he stretched his arm up to take it from a distance, posing next to him. Ace was tired. The room seemed to get darker, the flickering lights growing dim.

He was dying, he realized. Once he was gone, the laboratory would collapse, erase any sign of what Ghost Face had done to him. Like none of it had never happened.

"You're not going to last very much longer," Ghost Face said. His obvious disappointment made the corner of Ace's mouth lift.

"Neither did you."

He heard Ghost Face's sharp inhale as his vision tunneled. Of course, the guy had to have the last word. He bent down, making sure his mask was the last thing Ace would see.

"Next time, I won't save you for last. Everyone will hear you beg for me to stop, but I never will. Even after you die, I'll take my time with your body." Hands on his shoulders shook Ace a little, trying to keep him awake despite how heavy his eyelids were getting. "Take pictures while I carve you out, memorialize the mess I am going to make of you."

Hands on the insides of Ace's thighs pushed them wide apart.

"Spread you open for your friends to find you."

Hands on his chest, pulling at the edges of the gash left behind by the knife.

"The next time you wander away from the fire, I'll be there. Ready to pay you a visit."

He couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, the rest of Ghost Face's filthy rambling fading in and out as he sunk underneath a weight far greater than the killer on top of him. As he passed out, Ghost Face's last threat followed him as he came to back at the campfire. It circled in his head as he took in the rest of the survivors sitting around it. A few acknowledged his return, Bill nodding at him across the fire and Jane looking away from her conversation with Nancy to give him a tight smile. They had both been in the trial, both dying on the hook.

Only David Tapp showed any interest in the trial's outcome as he asked, "You get out of there?"

"No," Ace said, smiling as he sat on the ground instead of on the log beside him. The small distance made him feel better. It wasn't that he wanted to be alone... it was comforting being surrounded by everyone after Ghost Face's comment about waiting for him outside trials and about his ring. Which, Ace noticed with irritation, hadn't come back with his finger. He rubbed at the empty spot only to stop at the weight of David's attention.

He didn't think it would be something David would catch. He casually pressed his hand into the grass anyway. He was a detective, after all. Not someone Ace would have ever bothered with before all this, but he was one of the few survivors who talking to didn't occasionally make him feel his age. Despite his no-nonsense attitude, he was always willing to humor Ace. And if he disapproved of Ace's wagers, he never showed it.

"Man, I hate when they act like that. Just want it over with." David hunched over a little when Ace hummed an agreement, before he shrugged and said, "Sorry I couldn't do more. It was a rough one."

"It was," Ace said. He slyly added, "Maybe you should take after Bill more often."

"Hey now," David shot back. "I had a plan."

"Tell me about it," Ace said and listened to his methodical explanation, avoiding looking out at the darkness between the trees encircling them. David's rough voice filled the empty feeling growing in his chest.

There were more rough trials ahead. He wasn't going to let it bother him very much. Every problem Ace had ever faced, he had found a way out. This wasn't any different. 

No matter what Ghost Face did to him, Ace would never beg him for anything.

**Author's Note:**

> After an anon on [tumblr](https://audiopilot.tumblr.com/post/190888491874/hi-i-saw-your-post-for-dbd-pairings-and-was) asked me about my thoughts on the Ghost Face/Ace pairing, I couldn't help writing my initial idea. 😏


End file.
